


The Woman in the Attic

by wellthizizdeprezzing



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, F/F, Magic, Romance, Smut, Victorian Era AU, but like a bit later on, dark magic tho, depictions of mental illness, hermione gets wrapped up in some shady shit, some angst for extra flavor, war for humanity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:21:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29156508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wellthizizdeprezzing/pseuds/wellthizizdeprezzing
Summary: In a tough spot, Hermione accepts an unsavory job in order to make ends meet. There, she comes across the mysterious and oft called mad, Bellatrix Lestrange. Together the two of them work towards defeating a sinister force that is set on destroying the world but not without falling for each other first. Victorian Era AU with magic.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 30
Kudos: 114





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So I've been reading a lot of Charlotte Bronte books and they inspired me to write this Victorian-like dark and twisted tale. I hope you enjoy.  
> I will be updating this on the first Wednesday of every month.

Rodolphus had brought home another whore tonight.

She could hear the whore's raucous laughter as it echoed off of the halls of the mansion, high pitched and obnoxious. No doubt she was clinging onto his arm and lapping up his words like a drunk lapped up alcohol.

Sickening.

Revolting.

How insipid was this girl? She was only an one time thing; there was no way he was going to ever recall her name after this and he was most certainly going to dump her back into whatever hovel he had picked her up from, or put her back into her pathetic excuse of a town. That is, unless he was deciding on keeping himself entertained with her for a couple days more; she did have the voice for it, loud and likely to give out wonderful screams. Then the girl was even stupider for trying to charm her way to his side. As if he would ever consider such trash worthy of his attention. Soon the girl would find out the hard way what kind of attention the man dished out best for those girl's he found.

They were all adolescent and naive, enamored by this charming young and good looking man who suddenly paid interest to them. Most of them had no idea he was married, and those that did shrugged it off, hoping to replace his wife in his heart and in his eyes. As if one fuck could change all that! He wasn't married to his wife for love but for money. And no one knew it better than she did. And no one certainly knew her husband's sick and twisted vices better than she did, although she wished she didn't. That was why she felt pity for this young girl because she knew what was going to happen next.

Rodolphus no doubt had probably already fucked the young girl and was going to take her to his 'fun' room. There she would find that the charming young man was nothing but a deranged monster who enjoyed harming others. But it would already be too late for her. She was a nobody, or someone who had ventured to this locale from a far away small town, and had no relatives or friends to complain once she went missing. He always made sure to pick carefully. After all, if the truth ever came out it would cause quite a scandal, not that his wife would ever tell. Oh no, if she did it would bring upon her ruin too.

His aforementioned wife was right now sitting in the lounge, a cup of warm tea in her hand and legs crossed at the knee in an unladylike manner as she peered into the dark coals of the fireplace, the remains matching her black cold eyes. The fire had long gone out as she had waited for her husband and his fresh whore to finish their amorous activities. Now that she heard them leaving the room she left the armchair she had been sitting in and went out into the hallway to join them. They were walking arm in arm just like she had predicted, laughing gaily. The woman, a blonde with big breasts that were practically falling out of her hastily redone dress was all eyes for Rodolphus as he went on about a funny hunting trip he had gone on with his brother Rabastan and some other elite men.

“And then that smarmy git fell off his horse, causing us to lose our prey.”

“What a terrible thing!” the woman gasped, covering her mouth in shock.

“Yes, well-” Rodolpus paused when he caught a glimpse of who was standing in the hallway before him. The blonde on his arm also quieted down when she saw the other woman in the hallway. But instead of having the decency to look ashamed of being caught with the husband, she straightened her back up, pushing her massive breasts out, and smiled tightly.

“Bellatrix, dear. I thought you went to bed,” Rodolphus said, letting go quickly of the blonde's arm and going to straighten the crooked front of his shirt.

“I'm afraid I was unable to sleep. I see you've brought a guest over,” she calmly raised a hand and waggled her fingers at the girl in front of her. The blonde didn't wave back, only looked at Rodolphus who was now ignoring her as he peered at this wife disdainfully.

“Yes. She's quite the lively one. She wants to work here. I was giving her a tour.”

Bellatrix hummed. He used that excuse every time but it was more for the sake of the girl than for his wife. Bellatrix already knew what he was going to do with them. Rodolphus would certainly love her pained cries when the time came.

“I hope you haven't forgotten your manners? The woman looks famished. Perhaps I can give her something to eat before you continue on with your activities.” She arched a brow at this, causing the blonde to look in question at Rodolpus who merely shrugged.

“If you wish. I will be in my study attending to some business.” With that he swept away, leaving the two women in the hallway. The blonde felt incredibly uncomfortable now. She had thought the wife had caught onto them but it seemed the woman hadn't. She had been prepared to taunt the fact that her husband had wanted her, to protect her actions, but there didn't seem to be a need for that.

“What is your name?” Bellatrix asked pleasantly.

“Uh, my name is Reba, lady Lestrange.” the blonde gave a slight curtsy as one should in the presence of near royalty and the dark haired woman in front of her smiled gently. She indicated with a nod of her head for Reba to follow her and the younger woman did.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance Reba. I hope my husband has been treating you kindly. Sometimes he is so scattered brained that he will oft forget to provide guests with tea or a light snack. But no worries, I had my chefs prepare some food for us. I hope it is to your tastes.”

“Uh, thank you, my grace,” Reba stammered out. She had heard terrible things of the lady Lestrange. That she was mad, a nutter, horrid and vile and that she took pleasure in ruining people's lives. And those were some of the tamer rumors. Rodolphus himself had many a horror story of how the woman had attacked him in the middle of the night, scratching and clawing at him. That was after all how he received that scar on his face, a constant reminder that he was married to that awful woman. It was what had lead Reba to want to comfort the poor man. He had suffered so much at his wife's hands yet he still said he loved her so and was trying to get medicine and help for her.

That was why Reba was so surprised the older woman was acting so...cordial. She wasn't screaming, running around, gnashing her teeth or kicking holes in the walls. Perhaps she was in a pleasant mood? After all, certainly one couldn't be mad all the time.

Bellatrix lead the way into a giant dining hall. It was dark and lit only by candles hanging from torches on the walls. There were no windows anywhere and the only other door in the room lead to the kitchen where warm smells of food could be scented from.

“Please, take a seat,” Bellatrix indicated to the chair on the opposite end of the long gray stone table. Already plates and utensils had been laid out on a tablecloth of green and silver. Bellatrix took the seat on the other end and immediately two waiters came from the kitchen door and brought the meal out along with a tumbler of whiskey. An odd choice for a woman, Reba thought but soon her attention was on the delicious meal in front of her. It was pheasant covered in fig sauce. She had never seen or even smelt such delicious foods. She couldn't believe her good fortune. Here she was eating such finery even though she had just helped Lady Lestrange's husband cheat on her.

Reba felt a stab of guilt. Perhaps the man had been over-exaggerating the horribleness of his wife. But she pushed the guilt away and took to digging into the meal, her manners forgotten as she disappeared into the experience of eating such rich juicy goods. She had already gotten halfway into the meal when she remembered with a burst of shame where she was and how she was acting. She hastily wiped away the sauce at her mouth and turned a worried gaze to the lady at the head of the table. Would she declare her a pig? Kick her out? But the older woman was merely looking at her over her drink as she swirled it around, the ice clinking. She had left her own dish untouched.

“I'm sorry, your grace. I forgot where I was...” Reba hastily tried to explain her rude actions but the woman raised a hand to silence her.

“I do not take offense. It is good to see you enjoying your meal.” Her lips curled up into a lazy smile. “I have to say, however, that I apologize for what will happen next.”

“For what...will happen next?” Reba asked, suddenly feeling very hot and cold all over. Her skin broke out in a sweat and her breathing rate increased. She let her knife and fork clatter to the table top.

“Yes.”

“I...can't....I can't...breathe,” Reba wheezed out, her hands coming to her throat. What she had thought was a fearful reaction to the lady's words was quickly turning out to be something else. Her chest wouldn't rise and her vision was going fuzzy. What was happening to her? She pushed away the chair to try and get up, to run and get help, but her legs weren't working and she doubled over, her face hitting the plate of food. She clawed at the table, trying to pick her body up right but she didn't have any strength. What was wrong with her?

“You stupid girl,” she heard Bellatrix sneer. “As if I would let you get away with Rodolphus. You should be grateful this is your fate and not another one. I'm sparing you.”

Reba tried to respond but her legs finally gave out and she toppled backwards to the floor, the plate of food coming down with her. She finally knew what had happened to her. She'd been poisoned. The cutlery clattered onto the floor next to her and as her eyes closed for the final time, the last thought that ran through her head was that Bellatrix really was crazy.

Bellatrix merely sat and watched the girl before her die. Really, she was doing her a favor. Rodolphus would be mad when he found out what had happened but he couldn't truly hurt her. She began to grin widely to herself, knocking the whiskey back in one gulp and slamming the glass on table, and before long a laugh erupted from her throat followed by more and more until she had thrown her head back, her shrill bellows of amusements echoing around the dining hall. Gradually the laughs calmed down and her eyes began to leak tears as her mouth did an upside smile. With an angry sob she knocked the glass off the table, it shattering on the floor, and she set her elbows on the table and sobbed into her hands.

He had driven her to do this. If she hadn't been truly crazy before, he was going to make her.


	2. Hermione Granger, Lady of the House of Gryffindor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: An extra update. Next one will be March third :)

Once they used to have it all. The money, the servants, the food, and the clothes. The houses, the land, the reputation, and the dances. Oh, the dances. Hermione loved those the most. She would get to dress up in her very best gown, and do up her hair, and rogue her cheeks, bringing out her natural beauty. These dances were meant to show off the splendor of her house of royalty in front of other elite members of society, and Hermione's father always made sure his little princess was the center of it all. She would help him host them, picking out the dance hall and the food and drinks to be served there. He always valued her feedback, and actually encouraged her to be educated.

At the dances of the house of Gryffindor, they would all praise Hermione and compliment her looks and she'd get to dance with the most handsome of boys. The music of the orchestra would swell and she would lose herself to it and swirl away carelessly under its sweet mesmerizing caress, imagining she was somewhere else, transported to a new land, each step taking her closer and closer to the enchanted haven.

But the dances had been the first to go when the luck of the House of Gryffindor had taken a turn for the worst. The house of Gryffindor had been one of the four original founding houses of royalty that had helped settle London. They had started off as merchants, trading across the great seas. And from there their profits came, goods and money as well as land rights and various fineries from foreign lands lavishing the family members. Over the years these royal houses only managed to expand their business operations and built up an empire on which other royal families rode the coattails of. Once close to one another, the four houses had become enemies, fighting with one another over resources. Gryffindor despised Slytherin, accusing them of being snake tongued liars and thieves, dabbling in criminal activity. And the Slytherins hated the Gryffindors for being suck ups to the Queen and for pandering to the people, for squandering their money on helping low class citizens. But Hermione was proud of her house for helping those who were less advantaged. It was what distinguished her house from the others and made it better in her opinion. Yet, these differences caused many a time for the Slytherins and Gryffindors to fight against each other. And if it wasn't on the commercial field than it was on the battlefield, many a good Gryffindor losing their life to those scoundrel Slytherins.

Hermione had heard that young Potter had lost both his mum and dad to such a tiff. It was only when he had been adopted by his uncle Sirius that that had prevented him from being tossed out into the streets and having to live like a common street urchin.

The Ravenclaw house had begun to focus more of its trade on information rather than goods, earning the nickname of the House of Spies for it was believed their family members now supplied the Queen with vital information on rival nations and governments. The Hufflepuff house had more or less begun to fall into obscurity. Their wares had not been going so well for them, and the new head of the house was not aggressive enough in seeking out alternative routes. Hermione thought that to be lazy, and that the whole house was falling to gluttony and disarray because the members simply did not care enough to try to achieve something. They were not hard working like the Gryffindors.

Hermione always thought her house would remain on top, but then a series of unfortunate events had befallen them. One by one their stocks began to fail. Scandals began to arise about the family; a whole swarm of them. Like locusts these rumors preyed upon her father and mother's respects. They made people wary of the Granger family, made them not trust them anymore as dirty secrets that were not real secrets were aired by a mysterious man who vowed to bring justice to those the Granger's had wronged. Under the pen name of Gaunt, he gave witness accounts of murders, shady dealings, drug trades and treason against the crown. The public grew riled at this information and the Queen imprisoned some of those who had been linked to the treason. One of them had been Sirius Black, the man thrown into Azkaban, a horrid prison where only the worst of the worst went. He was as good as dead for his supposed crimes there.

But the slander did not stop there. Tales were told that Hermione was a wild child, was a radical for her informed mind, and that she moonlighted as a prostitute to satisfy her unholy urges. Hermione's father had grown enraged by those accusations. He cherished and treasured his only child dearly and he knew how much damage these charges could do to her. Already all offers for her hand had rescinded. He spent no small sum of money in order to try to track down this Gaunt fellow, but no leads turned up and as the family business failed his health failed too.

He fell ill rather quickly before expiring in the span of a breath. With no man at the head of their household, Hermione's mother and her had no ways of acquiring income. They were forced to sell off their jewelry and their goods. And then their land. All around them the house of Gryffindor was falling to pieces and there was nothing they could do except watch it crash and burn.

And then one night it literally did crash and burn. Living at a small country mansion so as to avoid the expenses of city life, several Slytherin found the place and came in at night and made off with all of the families heirlooms before they torched the place down. The whole night had been chaos.

Several loud cries of the remaining staff that the Granger's could still employ rang out in the dark of the halls. Hermione had scrambled out of bed, candlestick in hand, wondering what was going on. As she padded down the halls warily with only the candlelight to guide her, she drew closer to the door at the end of the hall, where red glowed from under its frame. With shaking fingers as loud screams and crashes could be heard coming from there, she pushed the door open, the wood burning hot to the touch.

The door swung open to reveal several of her staff dead on the floor, blood pooling around them. And the edges of the room were lit and on fire, the hungry flames eating up the flourished wallpaper. There were three strange men in the room, two of them had their backs turned to Hermione, but one noticed her. His eyes were dark and his face was smiling madly. “Death to the Gryffindor scum! Long live Slytherin!” And then he threw the lit torch in his hand at her. With a squeak she shut the door and the torch hit it instead, lighting it aflame. Then Hermione took to her heels and ran in the direction of her mother's chambers. There she found the frightened woman packing as quickly as she could some small things.

“Mother, I saw, I saw the Slytherins! They are killing us!”

“I know dear. I know. We must escape and quickly.” Her mother zipped up the bag. “There is a secret passageway out. We must hurry to get to it.”

Without another word the two woman hurried off, trepidation fueling their foot steps. Hermione had never felt this frightened before but she didn't speak a word of this. A lady always had to be composed at the best or worst of times.

The Slytherins hadn't gotten to this part of the house yet, but it was only a matter of time. The barricaded door- a servant must have done that- was beginning to move as the men pushed against it. It wouldn't last long.

Somewhere a window smashed in the dark and a torch was thrown in, the room to their left lighting up. They had to hurry. Hermione stifled a worried whimper and hurried her pace, her mother now nearly running to get to the location. They took another twist and turn down the dark halls- it was at this moment Hermione cursed having a big house- before they arrived at the place. A small cellar door situated between a chair and lamp.

Her mother opened up the door and pushed Hermione in first. But before she could take another step in, she froze up, a look of horror on her face. “Oh no. I've forgotten your father's medallion.”

Ian Granger's medallion was something important to both women. It was the only thing they had of him after they had lost him. It meant a lot to both of them, but more to Hermione's mother than Hermione. “Mother forget it, you mustn't leave now. We can come back and get it.” The death had devastated them both, for they had both loved Ian Granger. He was a good man. And it seemed too good for this life, for its stresses had killed him.

Her mother shook her head and Hermione could see the fires of stubbornness in her eyes. She knew her mother would not see to reason now. “Please mother. Don't go back.” Hermione latched onto her mother's arm. “It's just a token.”

“The only token we have of your father after the state stripped us of all his belongings,” her mother viciously insisted. “I will not let those Slytherin scum take that which is his!”

“Mother-” but Hermione's mother shoved her daughter back into the cellar passage, propelling her a good two feet back. “Go. Be on your way. I will meet you at the end.” Then with that she tossed the bag to her daughter and slammed the door closed. Hermione was shut in the dark, banging her fists on the door. But there was no handle on this side. She could not open it, and neither would her mother even as she pleaded desperately for her to come back.

At last, her fists and throat sore, she heaved a deep breath and decided to be on her way. With only her dying candle to guide her, she cautiously made way down the stone hallway, coming to a pair of stairs that led her down deeper, before she ended up where various pickled variations of food were stored. She nicked a couple of those and put them in her bag in case she needed them- it never hurt to plan a bit ahead. Then she scoured the stone walls for the door she knew had to lead out of her. It was a small wooden thing and opening it up lead her into the forest by the house. Smells of smoke and ash filled her nostrils and as she walked into the woods, the heat of the burning house behind her warmed her back but chilled her heart at the same time. She did not rest until she made it into the safety of a small copse of bushes. From there she watched the house and prayed that her mother would come out through the cellar door.

But as the windows exploded from the built up gases of the fire, and pieces of wood began to fall off as the roof collapsed in on itself, the door remained closed.

“Where are you?” she whispered to herself, feeling tears of panic prick her eyes. Some loud male voices could be heard to her right and she shrunk back into the bushes, the sharp branches stabbing into her back. They passed by the woods, torches in hands and boisterous laughter on their tongues. No doubt they were happy at the success of another ruination of a Gryffindor. Red hot anger filled Hermione. She swore, she'd make those nasty little Slytherin's pay. She glared at them angrily, wishing she could somehow set them ablaze with her eyes, but sadly such a thing was not possible.

So she stayed put where she was, watching and waiting. She did not even feel the chill of the night, so focused on her current dilemma she was. The Slytherin's left by carriage, hollering and whooping as the house gave one last massive groan and collapsed in on itself. And still Hermione waited for her mother to come out, silent tears streaming down her foolish hopeful face.

Daybreak rose on the smoldering remains of their house, everything blackened. Hermione stood up, her body cramped and sore from staying crouched so many hours. She circled the ruins, looking for anything, for something she could salvage. But the wood was too hot to touch and nothing resembling her mother's body could be found. She couldn't even bury her if she wanted to.

Grieving silently, she tightened her grip on the only bag of possessions she now owned and left the ruins of her life behind. At the age of seventeen she had become orphaned and with nowhere to turn to. But she was a Gryffindor and she was determined to be brave, to not let the misfortunes brought upon her break her. It would be like admitting defeat to the Slytherin's.

She traveled upon the lone country road for days and nights, the howls of the wolves accompanying her. Her shoes were scuffed, her hair a disarray, and she had eaten all that was in the jars. She was hungry and tired, sleeping on grass not an optimal option. And she was tired of crying, of mourning all that she had lost. She didn't know what she did now, but she needed to get to the nearest town so she could get some sort of help.

On the seventh day of travel she finally arrived at a small backwater town and seeking out a tavern she collapsed onto a heap at the bar there. The warm smells of food greeted her nose but she had no cash to pay with.

The owner, a rather rotund woman with bright red hair, immediately noticed her bedraggled state and came up to her, wrinkling her nose at the smell. “My dear, you look a mess. Rough journey?”

Hermione nodded her head, not wanting to go into a description of what had occurred least she break out into tears.

“You look like you could use a good bath and some nice warm food.”

“That I could. But I'm afraid I have no cash.” A quick examination of what Hermione's mother had packed revealed only some clothes and some jewelry of the Gryffindor house. “Do you accept other alternatives?”

Hermione stuck out a tired and aching arm with a ring with the Griffin on it. The woman's eyes flashed open in recognition and she curled her hand over it. “My dear. It would do best if you did not tote that around her.” There was a small glimmer of fear in her eyes, her voice lowering.

“And why not?” Hermione asked wearily. Had the news of her family's defamation even reached this small village?

“The lord and lady of this town are Slytherin and they have a strict policy against anyone of a royal house other than theirs.” Anger filled Hermione at those words. Filthy Slytherins. Ruining everything for her!

“Well, I have no way of leaving this town if I do not find a way to sell this for money.” Hermione dreaded the journey to another town, one free of a snake's influence. She had no food and she didn't know how far the next town would be.

The woman contemplated something silently, appraising Hermione's state gingerly. “Why don't you stay here for the night? I can tell you are in grieving. I will not ask what happened, for I have a hunch as to the troubles your house has had.”

Hermione's lips tightened, as she tried hard to hold back the quivering. A common woman was showing her pity. How touching. And embarrassing. “I do not need your pity. I come from the bravest and most resourceful of houses. I can manage on my own.” She made to get up from the stool but immediately almost collapsed. Her legs had turned to jelly and now that she wasn't walking she realized how weak she was. She wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon.

The tavern owner caught Hermione before she could fall to the floor and sat the girl back in her chair. “I am not trying to pity you. I just couldn't stand the thought of letting you off into the night in such a state. I'll let you stay here overnight for free.”

Hermione swallowed heavily at the generosity; fighting with her pride she accepted the offer. “Thank you,” she whispered out, so happy to be treated nicely by someone for once. After the scandals had come out about her family, and namely the rumors about herself, she was looked at in disdain. People scoffed at her and didn't even want to come near her for fear of catching the 'whore's disease'.

“The name's Molly Weasley,” the woman smiled warmly at seeing how grateful Hermione looked. “Stay here, I'll have one of my sons fetch your things and take you to your room.”

“That is fine. I can carry my own things,” Hermione's hand tightened on her bag. It was all she had from her past, all that was left of her family's legacy.

Molly didn't want to argue with that, sensing there was a reason behind the woman's defensiveness. “Very well.” Then she went off to get her son and Hermione breathed out a sigh of relief, feeling like something was finally going right for once.

...

That was a year ago. Some way or another Hermione had become a part of the life in the tavern. To thank Molly for her niceties, she had offered to help clean the place up a bit before heading out to send letters to any of her cousins. But that required additional waiting since the mail service here was so bad and to get to the next town over it would be two weeks by foot and Hermione had no money to her name to do that. Molly offered Hermione the chance to work for her stay at the tavern and Hermione took the opportunity readily. She was no stranger to hard work, despite what people might think about the upper class. Ian Granger had instilled in his daughter a hard working attitude and a lust to learn new skills and abilities. Hermione had learned to ride horseback, to play piano and violin, to sing, to weave beautiful tapestries, and to even sword fight. Sword fighting was an important Gryffindor skill, for so many of them had dabbled in serving the crown.

Cleaning, while something new and something she was a tad awkward at, she quickly applied herself to, not wanting Molly to think her work less than superb. When Hermione did something, she wanted it to be as perfect as possible. This need for perfection sometimes drove others mad but she turned up her nose at them, calling them slobs and lazy.

“My, my, you are such a splendid worker,” Molly had commented pleasantly at the sight of the freshly scrubbed floors. Then she turned on her heel and her voice grew ten degrees sharper. “What the hell have you worthless sons been doing all this time when I ask you to clean! You hardly make a dent. Stop fooling around and get to work or else I won't be giving you supper unless I can see my reflection shine in the floor.”

Hermione had quickly learned that Molly could be loving and caring but she could also be a scary force to be reckoned with and nobody really liked seeing that side. She often treated Hermione like a daughter and perhaps it was because she wanted more daughters of her own. She only had the one, a young little girl named Ginny who stared with big eyes at Hermione. She saw Hermione as her bigger sister too, begging her to play with her, to teach her how to brush and braid her hair nicely. The rest of the Weasley's children were boys all of varying ages. Hermione had only really met Ron, the youngest and also her age, and Fred and George, for the others had moved out to find their fortunes somewhere else. One of them was a merchant and he sometimes sent them money back home.

Hermione had also met Arthur Weasley and found the man to be very curious and interested in the pursuits of knowledge. Sadly he didn't have time for any of that between running the tavern and raising his giant brood of children. So Hermione took to reading him passages from books, since the man could not read himself. He'd sit in his armchair and smoke his pipe and listen to her, interjecting with some questions on words he did not understand.

Sometimes the rest of the family would join in when they had a spare moment before sleep. It was moment's like this, gathered around the fireplace and all together that warmed Hermione's broken heart. She still grieved for her parents- there wasn't a day that went by that she didn't think about them. Molly would come in and pat Hermione on the back when she had her nightmares in the middle of the night, so loud she would wake the matriarch up. Molly would never ask what was in these dreams and Hermione never told her, glad to be able to keep that part of her life quiet. She didn't want to think about the past. It would always stick with her no matter how hard she tried to dislodge it, but she had to move on. She wasn't royalty anymore. Gaunt had seen to it, as well as those repugnant Slytherins. The only thing Hermione wasn't going to let go of was her hatred of those snakes. She wasn't the only one who disliked them. Apparently they weren't very good rulers of this town and taxed the lower classes too often. But that was to be expected from a house greedy for blood and money. Greedy for the ruin of others.

Hermione had taken Molly's advice in hiding her belongings of her royal linage. All her dresses and jewels were hidden away in a small closet. She couldn't wear them about town or trouble would befall her. She almost wanted it to, so she could come face to face with the Slytherin who ran this town and spit on his face. She knew being confrontational wasn't a good idea, but on the days she had a bit more to drink, she would fantasize about taking a sword and cleaving the mysterious man's head off. She imagined him to be ugly and squat and reeking of dead things. But she quickly squashed those wants down. It wasn't very noble of her to kill for revenge. Only if it was justified. And she highly doubted that she would even be able to hurt him even if she called for his blood. The thought of taking another life made her squeamish and so she would drink more to remove her thoughts from such a dark place.

She only hoped she would receive a letter from someone in her extended family shortly so she could leave this small town and try to formulate a way on getting her family honor back with them. She knew Harry Potter was in ownership of a small part of the fortune after his uncle Sirius had passed it over to him when the government had come to imprison him for false crimes. They could build their empire up once more into the powerhouse it had been. She would of course miss the Weasley's and have to compensate them for their kindness once she had gotten everything back under order.

Hermione was almost surprised how easily she fell in with the Weasley family. They quickly gave her one of the familial rooms. It was small but cozy and definitely quaint; a shoebox compared to what she once had had. She wasn't one to complain, however, grateful for all she had been given rather freely. Fred and George amused and regaled her with the stories of their pranks and the various mischief they got up to in town. They had quite a reputation with the town police and often times when she went out she saw them either in the process of running away or in flirting with some of the local ladies. The younger women loved the twins devious smirks and handsome charms.

Ron wasn't a troublemaker like them, often having to reprimand them into doing work when they slacked off around the tavern. He also seemed to blush a lot more when he was around Hermione and the brunette had met enough suitors to know he was taken with her looks. Even when she was wearing plain clothes of a simple cotton dress and head scarf he still looked at her as if she was the most majestic thing he had ever seen. Hermione found it quite flattering even if she didn't say anything. Everyone in the family knew of the poor boy's crush on Hermione and teased him mercilessly for it, and she had to stifle a few laughs when he flushed in embarrassment and tried to pretend he did not like her. Even Molly and Arthur annoyed him on the matter.

Hermione wondered if Ron would ever confess his feelings to her and she also wondered what her answer to him would be. He was kind and sweet and she enjoyed his sloppy attempts at impressing her. Yet, she wasn't in a position to love. She had business to attend to. And when finally one day a letter arrived addressed to her, she tore it open hastily and her brows furrowed up as she read its contents.

_It is not safe to write on such matters for I fear Gryffindors are still being hunted down. Therefore I will come meet with you when it is safe to do so. Do not try to reach out to the rest of us. We are all in hiding right now._

The letter was unsigned and Hermione wondered who it had come from. And how bad the situation must have gotten for even the lesser known Gryffindors to hide. She fretted about it, but she could do nothing until the mysterious stranger arrived. She focused on cleaning up the tavern, on serving the food, and on chatting with the townsfolk there.

And one day a mysterious stranger did arrive but not the one she wanted.

He came in with the sweeping motion of his black riding coat, a hat jaunty on his head. The tavern silenced down as he came in. Hermione immediately knew who he was and her hand stilled where she had been furiously rubbing a wine stain out on the bar. He reeked of money; from his expensive and impressive black and green outfit to the way he carried himself. He had a handsome face, only slightly marred by the white line of a healed scar around his mouth.

And he was also a Slytherin. He wore the insignia proudly on his chest, stripping off his cloak and handing it over to Molly who had rushed over to greet him. “My lord Lestrange. What can we do for you today?” There was a tremor of fear in her voice as he coolly gazed around the place. His eyes landed on Hermione and she felt her heart leap to her throat. Did he know her true identity? Was he here to kick her out of the town? Or worse?

“I have come from a long journey to the south and I wish to partake in some refreshments before I head back home. I see that we have a new face around here.” At this he smiled rakishly and walked confidently over to Hermione, his eyes raking over her figure appreciatively. He chased the man seated close by to two seats down, the hooded man grabbing his drink hurriedly and adjusting for the lord's sake.

She swallowed heavily and lowered her gaze down and rubbed again at the stain. His heavy footsteps stopped in front of her and she could smell his cologne from here. It was cloying. “And what might be your name fair lady?”

She thinned her lips. She wanted to be stubborn and gaze him right in the eye and tell him to go suck a fig but she knew she had to play the part of a common girl so as to convince him she was nothing more. Maybe he didn't know she was royalty? Maybe she had only lept to that conclusion hastily.

“The name is Hermione,” she softly answered.

“Hermione, hmm. What a unique name for someone so common.”

She mentally scolded herself for giving him her real name. How was she to know not many common girls had that name? “My parents had grand dreams for me. They could not imagine me a simple tavern wench.”

“And where are your parents now?” He leaned in and she could hear the curiosity in his voice.

“Dead. Lost to sickness,” she fibbed that part at least, feeling her throat close up at their memory. Now was not the time for tears.

“A shame. Where do you live now? With relatives?”

Why was he so curious about her? What did he want from her? Again she feared that he was only toying with her and knew her real identity. “I live with the Weasley's. They did have a spare room to offer me. And thus I now work for them.”

“With a sprawling family of their size, I'm surprised they have an extra room,” he said condescendingly.

Hermione bristled at those words, feeling protective of her adoptive family. But there was nothing more she could do about it if she didn't want to offend him and risk him hauling her off to the manacles in the middle of town, used for public humiliation.

“Are you going to serve me a drink?” he asked all importantly. “I can see you still have much to learn about the service of others. Perhaps you need a lesson in that?”

Hermione nodded her head, hoping she had imagined the double meaning to his usage of the word service. “What will my lord have?” she wanted to spit on having to address him as her lord.

“I'll have a bottle of your finest scotch, which I must imagine isn't all that fine.”

Hermione didn't understand why the lord came here if he viewed this tavern, it's residents and it's food and drink below him. Still she fetched him the cleanest glass she could find and poured him a drink. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Molly had hung up the nobles coat and was now hovering by it, wringing her hands in worry over Hermione. She eyed the interaction between the lord and Hermione disdainfully. Hermione flashed her a little smile to let her know she was fine. The lord did catch this interaction.

“She fusses over you like a little child. But you are not a child any longer,” his eyes dropped down to her bosom and she bit her lip angrily. The audacity of this man! “How old are you?”

“18 this year, my lord.”

“Fantastic,” he smiled over his drink. “Just the right age to come work for me.”

Hermione could not stop the gasp that came from her mouth. “Excuse me, my lord?”

He set his glass down, running his gloved finger over the rim of it. “I am in desperate need of a young competent woman to help me in my house. Someone who knows how to cook, clean, and take care of others. You look like such a woman.”

A Slytherin was offering her a job? Never would she have thought this to happen. There was no way she was inclined to accept it. “I'm sorry my lord. I'm afraid I made a commitment to this wonderful family here.”

“5,000 pounds for your service. Per year.”

That amount of money choked up the rest of Hermione's protests. That was an insane amount of cash for such a simple job! And with it, she could work a year or two and have enough to try and rebuild her families fortunes from scratch!

The temptation was great and she licked her lips, trying to stop her excited trembling. But no, she couldn't do that. She couldn't trust the snake to keep his word. A small smile had spread on his face as he noted her tempted look and it didn't drop even when she said her rejection. “I'm sorry but I cannot do that. I am not fit for the job.”

“Fear not. I will be back to ask you once more.” With that he finished the rest of his drink in one gulp and tossed some money on the counter. It was more than the drink was worth. Snapping his fingers hurriedly at Molly, the woman fetched his coat and helped him put it back on. Then he was gone without another word and everyone in the tavern seemed to sigh out loud at the same time. Lively chatter returned once more, but among it was the concern sprinkled throughout that the lord was back.

Molly approached Hermione. “What did he say?”

“He asked me to work for him.”

The ruddy woman's face paled. “What did you tell him?”

“I said no. I'm not working for a snake like him.”

Molly sagged with relief. “Thank goodness. He has a bad reputation for going after young attractive girls like you and asking them to work in his house if not outright seducing them. And then we never hear from them again.”

Hermione felt a chill spread down her back. “Why not?” she asked although the worst reasons why took root in her mind. Molly shook her head. “There are claims that they leave this town and his house after working up enough money for him. That they want to live their fortunes out elsewhere. But no one is really certain. It all seems convenient. So whatever the case, you must not agree to him.”

“I'm afraid I might upset him if I say no. I know nobles. I know their kind.” Hermione's tone went dark. “I'm sure he wouldn't hesitate to torch down this establishment.” Molly's eyes went wide at this. “But do not fear. If he continues to pursue me, I will simple move to another town over.”

“Hermione, please do not fret over this. We won't let you be chased out-”

“Do not worry. For it is I myself who is chasing me out. For your safety. You have been kind and generous to this orphan.”

“Hermione-”

“It seems there is a dilemma here,” an old voice spoke up. It was the hooded man who had been previously uprooted from his old spot and was sitting quietly, nursing his drink up until now.

“And how is this any of your concern?” Molly arched a brow, miffed at the interruption.

“Because I so happen to know Hermione ever since she was a little girl.” At this the man let down his hood a little and Hermione had time to take in the half moon spectacles and the twinkling blue eyes and she let out a happy gasp. “Great-uncle!”

“Do you know this man? Is he trustworthy?” Molly said, not knowing who this man still was.

“Of course.” Hermione nodded her head, happy to see someone she knew. She seen this man a handful of times at her family's dances. “But how are you here?”

“I told you I was coming, did I not?” Dumbledore said softly, lowering his hood over his face once more for protective purposes.

“So it was you who sent me the letter?”

“Yes. I heard your call for help and I'm sorry I could not come to your aid faster. It was a tragedy what happened.” He patted her hand and she sniffed back the tears that pressed at her eyes. “But I'm afraid we have all suffered some tragedies.”

Molly sensing this was going to be a private conversation, left to go boss Fred and George into serving people instead of goofing around. “I heard you were last locked up by the government. How did you escape?”

“I had some friends aid me with that. But I'm afraid still more of us are imprisoned unrighteously.”

“I know. Those evil, conniving snakes!” Hermione could not help her tone from rising. “They took everything from us. They had to be working with that Gaunt man. I just know it. I bet the Ravenclaw's were in on it too, providing the man with dirty little details. How else would he have known so much!”

“I will unfortunately have to refute that point. The Ravenclaw house is collapsing.”

“What?” a shaky breath left Hermione's mouth. “How is that possible?”

Dumbledore shook his head. “Gaunt is behind it. Whoever this man is, he is intent on ruining all of the royal houses. All except Slytherin. Which is why I need you. I need your help Hermione.”

“You do?” This was the moment Hermione was waiting for, and she was a bit breathless with exhilaration at the thought of finally being able to get to the root of all this evil. “What can I do? I'm eager to help.”

“I want you to accept Lord Lestrange's offer.”

Hermione stilled. She looked in disbelief at Dumbledore. “You cannot be serious. The rumors of all those girls leaving once they work for him-”

“Yes, but they are not Gryffindors. They were no where nearly as brave or intelligent as you. I know you can do this Hermione. You must do it. We have no one else right now to do this task for us. It's too dangerous otherwise.”

“We?”

Dumbledore took a sip of his drink. “Yes. The remaining few Gryffindors and some of their more compassionate friends. We have banded together, called ourselves the order of the Phoenix for from the ashes of our ruins will we rise again. We are an organization focused on finding the truth behind the man called Gaunt and on reinstating the glory of the house once more. We'd like you to join our ranks. I must say I was overjoyed to find you still alive. I had thought you had perished. I'm glad to see you in good standing.”

Hermione was quiet, working away at her lip. “What would you even have me do there?” she asked, intrigued on how working for Lestrange would help the house of Gryffindor.

“Resources have led us to believe he may have direct ties with the process that led to our fall. But we cannot know until we get someone into his house. And he seems interested in you. Getting information out of him would not be hard- he is pompous and not all that bright although he likes to think he is. It would be the perfect cover. You would go in, get the information we need, and then we would pull you out. And if it got to be too dangerous, we could come up with a signal for our look out so we would know when to come storming in and get you out.”

“I would need some time to think about this.” Hermione knew she was a Gryffindor and she was supposed to be brave...but still, this was a big step for her. She'd never done espionage before. Would she even be any good at it?

“Of course. Take your time. In the meanwhile I will be around town, trying to form alliances.”

“You shouldn't have too hard of a time with that, great-uncle. Not many carry a kind heart towards the Lestranges'.”

Hermione caught a flash of a smile under the hood. “Good evening, Hermione.” And with that he left, leaving Hermione with his proposition clouding her mind.


	3. The House Lestrange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next chapter will be out April 7th. Till then.

Hermione stood outside the gate of the impressive grounds of the Lestrange manor. It was three stories tall and sprawled out to the left and right, both wings disappearing behind some trees that lined the land. The gates swung open under the touch of the guard standing there and at his head nod, she was allowed to cross the property line. Clutching her bag of simple belongings in one hand, she gulped deeply and tried to collect her bearings.

She had finally agreed to Dumbledore's plan only because her need and desire to do good by her family name had propelled her onto this path. She had doubts and she second guessed herself but her great-uncle's kind eyes had reassured her if she felt at all like she was in danger someone would be sent to fetch her.

She hoped there would never be a need for that and that she would be able to leave fairly quickly. Her stay in the manor depended on how skillfully and quickly she was able to get the job done. She was optimistic she would be leaving this place by her third month. She and her great uncle had gone over some tentative plans and found it would be better if she merely did her job and got the lay of the land and the comings and goings of the Lord Lestrange before she would be acclimated enough to garner information.

Hermione had thought that to be sensible and had agreed to it. And now she was on the front stoop of the Lestrange manor, the door opening up to reveal a butler waiting for her. “I've been told to expect you miss Hermione. Come, let me bring your things to the room and then I shall give you a tour of the house so you may know where you are permitted to go and where you are not.”

Hermione followed him silently inside and took in the splendor of the house. It had been a while since she had been surrounded by such riches. And part of her was angry. She had had such a life of comfort and it had all been ripped away by those filthy Slytherins. Oh, how sweet it would be to revenge herself on them. But, she had to keep a steady head on her shoulders.

The soft carpet underfoot, the velvet of the curtains, the soft cushions of the furniture, and the warm colors of the house were all varying shades of green or silver. Green was not her favorite color but she would have to get used to it during her stay here.

The butler took her to the back of the house where it was less decorated. Clearly this was where the servant quarters were. The walls were a plain white and the rooms were simple- just a bed, drawer, and desk. Hermione didn't mind. It was certainly more than she had had in the Weasley's house. She put her suitcase on the blue wool covers of the bed and followed the butler back out.

He gave Hermione the quick version of the tour of the house. Showed her where the kitchens, loud and noisy and full of delicious smells, were. Where the bathrooms, entrance to the cellar, the dining room, the living room, and the guest rooms were. Each had a specific and predestined appellation. Hermione was to adhere to those strictly and to not use the rooms for other reasons. She was to never enter the master's quarters, the guard standing outside the locked doors providing a good deterrent and also piquing Hermione's interest if anything of value to her cause might be there. She would have to make sure to break in, someway or another.

“-and access to the third floor is strictly forbidden,” the butler informed, drawing the conclusion of the tour at the pair of stairs that lead straight up to the dark upstairs. Could this possibly be another place where Lord Lestrange was keeping his secrets?

“Why so?” Hermione turned to the man who gave her a slightly scared expression.

“Terrible things await up there.”

If he had been hoping to dissuade Hermione from going up there, than he had said the wrong thing. The brunette now knew she had to get up there at all costs. It was more important than the master bedroom.

Two weeks slowly passed, filled with mundane activities as Hermione got acclimated to life here. The staff wasn't big, comprised mainly of a few men and woman. There were several cooks and several butlers and then the maids like Hermione whose job it was to clean the house and to keep the garden tidy. There was the house mother Lina, as she was called, who kept an eye on all the staff. She was ruthless and demanded perfection from her members. This was where Hermione's' perfectionism came in useful. Lina had a heard time finding fault with Hermione's cleaning so often left the girl to her own devices. Hermione had found comfort in the Lestrange library. When she was done cleaning she would sit down and read some of the books there. She craved knowledge. It had been a while since she had read anything and she lapped up the words like a man lost in the desert and finally finding water.

She knew she should be looking for shady activities but listening to kitchen gossip could get boring after awhile and it irritated her to no end. Did these people have nothing better to do than speculate about others lives? Hermione hated gossip. It showed low intellect. She had heard the tail end of herself in some of this gossip but when she'd cornered the cooks responsible for this, they had not seemed in the least bit repentant in getting caught.

However, some information had been gleamed. It seemed the staff thought Rodolphus Lestrange had lured her here in order to seduce her in his manor. Apparently this had happened previous times before and Hermione had to shiver in disgust. Wasn't he married? Where was his wife? Hermione was not going to let that man lay a finger on her. She wasn't a needy woman that desired a man to her side. And certainly not one like him. She couldn't see the appeal in him at all.

Hermione had managed to make a friend with one of the staff. She was young blonde haired girl with blue eyes rapt wide with wonder at the simplest of things. Many called her slow, or lame, claiming she had to have been kicked in the head by a horse when she was younger. Hermione called her Luna, which was the girl's real name. Apparently her parents had been forest folks, living away from society and self sufficient on nature. Luna hadn't wanted that type of life. She had wanted to see the world. But she had no money and was here to make some. Hermione found she liked conversing with the blonde. Even though conversation was simple and not too titillating, there was something nice about the way Luna hung onto her every word and was kind to her day in and day out. Hermione took to trying to teach Luna how to read, the poor girl never learning how prior.

It was a disheartening process, for it had taken Luna two weeks just to learn how to enunciate the alphabet but Hermione was determined to help the girl.

When Hermione was not reading, working, or helping Luna, she spent time wandering the manor, wary for prying eyes and tried to map out possible locations where secrets could be held. She wanted to go into her master's room, but a guard stood there at all times, so she knew she would have to come up with a distraction in order to get him to move. For now, she greeted him friendly, hoping to build up a friendly repertoire with him in case she would need it in the future. He was a man of few words, however, so it could be hard at times to get him to open up.

Hermione kept Dumbledore notified of her lack of progress through the mail. They had devised a special code in order to prevent their letters from being discerned. He told her often not to lose heart and that her adopted family was safe.

At the end of the second week Rodolphus Lestrange returned back to the manor. He had been gone for those two weeks prior thankfully and his first order of business had been in checking up on Hermione.

“How do you find my manor?” he asked, surprising her in the middle as she was dusting off the table. She jumped and span on her heel, her heart racing. He was still dressed in black and green shades and he looked on at her with too much interest in his eyes. She had a feeling he had been standing there for a while and watching her rear as she had been bent over previously.

Swallowing down her disgust at that, she smiled back in what she hoped was a warm manner. “My lord, your house is splendid.”

“As it should be. I trust your room is better than any the Weasley's could have provided?”

Hermione made her smile brighter to make up for the anger she felt at his words. “Of course. It is quite luxurious.”

He beamed at that before he approached her and slung an arm around his shoulders. She wanted to shrug away from his touch but held back the urge. Dumbledore had warned her that Rodolphus might try to charm her into his bed, and the rumors Hermione had heard in the house only added onto that belief. Still, she wasn't going to give into it. Maybe...just maybe she could use his own charms against himself and get him to slip the truth? Yet, she knew it was going to take a lot out of her to act like she was enamored by him and she didn't know if she had it in her. Dumbledore hadn't said anything of the manner of Hermione being forced to act seduced, so she figured it wasn't a necessity and that if she could find a way around it it would work just as well.

“Come with me on a little walk, and let me hear how things have been. I am quite intrigued by your beautiful looks and thus I would love to gaze upon your face more as you speak to me about matters of your life.”

He wished to know her more. All lies she was sure. She knew the tricks of upper class men quite well, having to evade them for several years until she could find the man she wanted. Compliments, claims of wanting to know her more, all with subtle touches, were the first step of their plans. The only issue was, how did she react to him. Her first instinct was to refuse him but she knew she could not do that until she decided if she would use his infatuation beneficially or outright reject him. Rejection was a tricky matter. When she had still been royalty she could do it more readily, always saying her father did not approve. But now, she had no father and rejecting a lord as a common woman spelled trouble for her. If she bruised his ego she could find herself strung up and whipped.

For now, she would play neutral. So she indulged him as they took a walk outside in the garden, his arm weighing heavily on her shoulder. “These flowers were imported here. I would only have the best for her. I had hoped they would make her better.”

“Who?” Hermione inquired softly as she gazed upon the rows and rows of beautiful Iris's and roses.

Rodolphus gave a great big sigh, as if it hurt him beyond words to speak of this so soon. “My wife.” His eyes watered in grief and he took his hand off of Hermione's shoulder so as to wipe his eyes. “She wasn't well. And I thought maybe flowers would help calm the hatred in her heart. Would calm the abject violence she inflicted. Sadly, it was not to be.” He shook his head sadly. “No matter how much pain she caused me I still love her.”

Was she deceased? She knew the man had been married but she had never seen his wife around. Hermione raised a skeptical brow when he mentioned that. He claimed to love his wife, but here he was trying to seduce someone half his age. Was he trying to elicit sympathy from her at his state? She kept her lips shut, letting him have his moment. She didn't know what would be a good thing to say anyways.

They walked in silence as he looked on at the garden, his eyes distant. At last he gave another sigh, the tears in his eyes drying up. “But, atlas much could not be done to help. And everyday I live with the burden that she suffers.”

He was looking at her expectantly and she offered him up a watery smile. “I'm sure she rests at ease knowing she has such a caring husband.”

This was the right thing to say for he lit up, a self satisfied smile crossing his lips. “Of course. Now, let us not discuss this burdensome topic anymore. Come, I shall tell you about the nature of each species of flower here.” And he had ventured on to explain to Hermione the types of flora he possessed. She had to say she did not mind this much. Learning the various symbolism of flowers was a useful tidbit of information that could come in handy some time.

* * *

Hermione had horrid dreams that night. Dreams of fire and smoke and she could hear the screaming of her mother. Incoherent and pained, as if some thing was rendering her apart. “Mother, mother!” Hermione sobbed as her mother disappeared behind a wall of flame.

Hermione awoke to the wetness of her own tears and a heavily beating heart. How horrid. The screams had sounded so real. And that was when Hermione realized they were, for she could still hear them, terrible wails that resonated from the ceiling, chilling Hermione's blood. She immediately had a flashback to that night at her house, where she had similarly awoken to screams. In an instant she had risen to her feet, her heart pounding in fear. She wanted to run, _had_ to run. Snatching up a candle and lighting it, she ran out into the halls, only to see Luna was walking down the one end, a lit candle in her hand.

“Luna.” The sight of a familiar face calmed Hermione down a bit. “What is going on? Are we being attacked?”

Luna shook her head no. “Do not fear. It is nothing the unusual.” Then she continued down the opposite end from where the screams where coming from. They were a bit quieter now, almost sounding strangled.

Luna's mysterious words did not quell Hermione's worry and she decided she would head over to where the sounds were. She crept through the house, the noises leading her to the third floor staircase. She stood at the bottom, peering up into the dark, wondering what was going on there. Did she dare to go up? She had been warned that terrible things happened there....

Sucking in a breath, she had just put her barefoot down on the first step when the loud slam of a door up there startled her and she nearly dropped her candle.

Then she heard an angry man's voice. “Would you shut it for once! A man cannot live normally with you making such a ratchet at this ungodly hour!” It was lord Lestrange's voice, followed by a loud crash and the breaking of glass. But the screaming had stopped now and it was quiet up there.

What had just happened? Was Rodolphus hiding somebody up there? Some poor torture victims? The sound of nearing footsteps alerted her to the fact that someone was approaching the stairs and she quickly hid behind an alcove, keeping a hand covering her flame as she peered out from behind it. She saw Rodolphus emerging, his hair tousled and his shirt ripped open at the front. He looked as if he had just left a fight and he held his candle and a set of key rings in a shaking hand before he let out a sigh to compose himself, fixing his hair with his free hand and going off back to his room.

Hermione knew for sure she had to get up there somehow, but she couldn't do it if he was home. He was the only one who could go up there and she couldn't risk him catching her. She'd wait until he left again and then she would go up.

But waiting for him to leave on some business was another two weeks of idleness. Hermione had nothing to do but clean the house, listen to faineant staff prattle (she had hoped they might speak of the screams she had heard but when she had asked all they did was look at her oddly before continuing on with their tasks) and spend time with Rodolphus who proclaimed to like her company. They talked of various things and Hermione made sure to keep her language simple so he would not think her too learned. So she'd pretend to be amazed by his renditions of famous plays, poems, and his philosophizing of various topics all of which she had heard before and done in a better style. He invited her to tea under the tree or to his study to peer over old dusty books.

The staff gossiped about her but only really Luna cared for the implications of Rodolphus' adoration.

“Be careful,” the blonde warned one day. “He has a habit of using women like you and then sending them off away when he is bored. He's done it to so many before. I don't want to see you chased out.”

The concern had been touching and Hermione had squeezed the blonde's hands. “Do not worry. I do not intend to fall into his grasp. All I am doing is being courteous to him. But does his behavior not bother his wife?”

Luna shook her head. “No one has seen the lady Lestrange in years. They say he sent her off to the doctors to cure her of her madness.”

“Her madness?” This was new to Hermione; currently she had been thinking the woman deceased. The brunette had lived in this town for a whole year and had never heard this. It probably was because she tuned out gossip, not wanting to clutter her mind with such useless utterances.

“Yes. She was quite mad. She was jealous of Rodolphus and any women that even so much as looked at him, she had poisoned.”

Hermione gulped at this. That sounded terrifying!

“But since he loved her so, and did not want to see his own wife killed for her troubles, he had her sent away to save the people of this town and to save her. Still, he gets lonely and finds the urge to prey upon younger girls soothing.”

“So then what of the third floor? Why is it off limits to us?” Luna seemed in a talkative mood and though Hermione didn't know how much of her words she could validate, any clue would be beneficial.

Luna shook her head. “That I do not know. I think there is a demon up there. One he uses to help him charm so many girls into his bed. That helps him have so much money. He didn't always used to be rich. You would do best to be wary of his intentions.”

A demon? Hermione wasn't the religious sort so the idea that Rodolphus had one was ridiculous. She was sure it had to be something else. Because surely a demon could not play the piano, could it? She swore she could hear the melodies, played in the dead of night when no one else was awake, only she for her nightmares kept her up. And then she would follow the sound of the twinkling notes and sit at the bottom of the staircase, almost as if in a trance from the music. Sometimes the song was sad, almost as if the piano itself was crying. Other times it was angry, cursing the whole world with its savagely beat out notes.

And when the melody would end, Hermione would find herself finally able to go back to sleep. It was only an experience she seemed to share for when she asked others they shook their heads and told her she had had a drink too much if she was hearing such music. So she had asked Rodolphus about this on one of their walks.

“Say, my lord, do you play piano?”

“Play it? I'm afraid I have not touched the keys in a while for more pressing issues are on my mind.”

His words made a frown scrawl onto her face. “Are you sure? I hear music of the sweetest and passionate kind played at night, when the witching hour begins.”

A dark look entered Rodolphus' face. “I am sure you must be mistaking it for a dream.” And then he had strode off angrily in the direction of the house.

After that day, she no longer heard the piano melodies. And she began to think, maybe she _had_ made it all up. It was silly to think about it, for she was here on a mission and that was to find out what secrets Rodolphus was hiding.

And one day, he finally went away on a business trip. Hermione had brainstormed on how to get into the room and forfeited the notion that she could get past the guard. The only other way would be in through the window. Rodolphus' room was on the second floor and it just so happened there was a tree outside his window. It was a sturdy thing and Hermione was no stranger to climbing trees. Back in her early years, she had often played a lot in the gardens with the staff's children, games such as Tag or Hide and Seek, or had simply roughhoused with them. This had all stopped when she reached the age of ten, her parents citing that she was too old to be acting like a little child and had to start acting like a true lady of the house.

Hermione bunched up her skirts and grunting, lifted herself up carefully, the rough bark scrapping her hands. She hadn't done this in a while and found herself a bit out of breath by the time she had made it up. A singular thick branch stretched out towards her destination and carefully balancing her weight out so as not to tip off of the tree, she edged towards it. Outstretching her hand she pushed at the glass of the window and found to her relief that it swung open easily. Getting over to the inside was a bit harder and required some smart maneuvering as there was a gap between the branch and the frame of the window and the only way Hermione could get by was to stand up and jump in. She closed her eyes, scared to see her failure result in her breaking a limb or worse. Yet she only met soft velvet underfoot as she tumbled and opened her eyes to find herself in a slightly messy if not dark room.

It smelled musty and could use from a decent cleaning, but it seemed whatever Rodolphus had in here he did not want to risk being spotted by others. Quietly moving about, Hermione decided she'd have time to come back and do a thorough search another time. Right now she needed to get the key to the upstairs for she was most certain there was something even more incriminating up there.

A search through Rodolphus' cabinets revealed that there was a mess of parchment and ink and other useless trinkets there. But in the bottom one, she found a whole ring of keys. No doubt these were for the locked doors in the house. Now, which one was it that he used for the upstairs? She would have no way of knowing, so she would have to make sure to make a copy of all of them.

She shoved the key ring into her pocket and slowly made her way back out the window and to the grass, making sure to close the window on her way out. She felt wary and jumpy, worried that one of the staff might pop out and spot her and demand to know what she was doing. She couldn't have that. Instead, she tried to go about her day as casually as she could, hiding the keys back in her room under her pillow while she went on about her day, cleaning the furniture, scrubbing plates and floors. She continued upon this forced casualness for three days time after having written a hastily worded note to her uncle about her current situation. And on the fourth day when six pm finally arrived, she joined the house mother Lina on a trip to the town to pick up fresh groceries. Luna was accompanying them, though Hermione couldn't imagine she was going to be much help. She was so air headed that she'd probably get lost and they'd have to search for her.

The ride over was tense, or at least Hermione felt that way, wringing her hands ever so often at the thought of this going all wrong. She had told Dumbledore in a previous letter that she wished to visit him so he could receive the keys and find a way to make a copy of them for her. But she would have to lose both Lina and Luna in order to go speak to him.

“Why don't we split up at the supermarket?” Hermione offered. “We can buy more things and in a lesser amount of time.”

Lina shook her head. “I'm afraid not, dearie. Luna needs us to watch over her. Even if she can't be much use, she does need her fresh air, too.”

Luna repeated “fresh air,” in a light tone of voice, playing with the tip of her blonde hair. Hermione tried hard not to look disgruntled. This was really putting a hold to her plans. Maybe she could sneak by somehow anyways?

Determining that she wasn't going to be easily deterred, she looked on at the scenery during the remainder of her carriage ride. Once they got to town, Hermione couldn't stop a small smile from gracing her lips. It had been a while since she had been here. She missed this place. Through the past year she had lived here it had quickly become a home to her for the one she had lost. And she missed the Weasley family. She wrote on occasion to them but it was not the same as being surrounded by the chaos and bustle that was their domestic life. At the mansion things were so...quiet. And everyone was careful and subdued for fear of breaking something or upsetting the house master. For he had a ferocious anger, one that sent shivers down Hermione's spine. She had seen him simply beat one of the butlers for daring to take too long in serving him his tea. There was no way she wanted to be on the receiving end of that.

“Stop gandering about. We haven't got all day,” Lina reprimanded Hermione who had stopped a moment to take in the familiar scenery around her. “We need to get meats first of. The highest quality cut.” She strode off and Hermione followed after her, Luna trailing not far behind, humming to herself.

The hustle and bustle of the outdoors markets was to be expected. It was always busy on the weekends and Hermione bumped into several people on occasion, almost losing Lina in the journey as she struggled to catch up with the woman's fast pace. They had, however, lost Luna.

“Where did that daft girl go?” Lina growled out, frustrated. “I told you to keep an eye on her.”

“Sorry,” Hermione bowed her head. She had tried to keep an eye on her friend but it wasn't easy when her thoughts had been focused on herself slipping away and trying to get to the Weasley's tavern where she was supposed to meet with her great uncle.

Though, this could be just what she needed. “I will go look for her. You continue the shopping and I shall meet you by the carriage when I retrieve her.” Hermione strode off quickly without waiting for Lina's remarks.

Only throwing on or two glances over her shoulder to make sure she wasn't being followed by the staff, she pushed her way into the tavern, finding it full with folks busy drinking and eating.

“Hermione!” Ginny was the first one to notice the brunette's arrival and immediately ran up to her to hug her waist. “It's been so long.”

“That it has been,” she patted the girl on the head. It wasn't long before the other family members noticed her too.

They stopped whatever job they had been doing in order to come up and greet her and ask her how her stay had been going. Molly and Arthur held concern in their eyes.

“Please tell me that horrid Slytherin man hasn't done anything to harm you,” Molly whispered and Hermione shook her head. “Worry not. He has not touched me and I will not allow him to do so.”

“Good. Good.” But Molly still looked worried.

“You want anything to eat?” Ron called out. “I'll make anything for you.”

“No, it is quite alright. I admit I only have a sliver of time to be here, and that I must see great uncle for business. I hope soon I can come visit, but that is only if master gives me vacation.”

Ron and Ginny's faces looked downcast but the twins were not. “We can come bust you out of there if you want.”

“No problem,” George added with a wink.

“I appreciate that, but I'll have to refuse the proposition. I don't want you in trouble with the lord. He has horrid punishments for those who do not respect his rulings.”

“Your great uncle is upstairs,” Arthur motioned up. “Do come by to visit us again soon. The house has been too quiet.”

“And there are too many boys,” Ginny wrinkled up her nose. “I miss having an older sister.”

“Yes, Ron doesn't quite fit that role, even given his girlish shrieks and protests,” Fred clapped a hand on his now blushing younger brother.

“Shut it.”

“Oh? Embarrassed to let Hermione know how high you screamed when you saw that spider in your room?” George jested.

“I said, shut it!” Ron began to smack at them with his dishtowel but they only dissolved into laughter and Hermione let a small smile grace her lips. It warmed her heart to see this family. They had taken her in and considered her one of their own. She shuddered to think how her life could have gone if she hadn't met them. She would probably be out cold, lying in some ditch, begging for money.

Bidding them ado, she climbed up the stairs to her great uncle's room. Before she even knocked on the door it was opened and she saw his wizened face there, stretched in excitement. “Hermione, how good to see you. I would ask how things have been going but I know we are short on time.”

“Quite.” Hermione nodded her head grimly. She dug into her pocket, revealing the key ring with the five keys on it. “I need copies of this done as soon as possible.” She was expecting to be back in town in three days time. If luck would hold than she could come back and get the keys and Rodolphus would be none the wiser, still somewhere away on his trip. His keys would be back in place and she'd have her own copy to use and find out some secrets.

“Do not worry. I know just the way to achieve results. Why don't you go downstairs and talk to your family and friends some more while I get this done.”

Hermione nodded her head, a bit taken aback by his easy comment on the time frame, and went off. It had only been a mere hour when Dumbledore came back, holding an identical set of keys and presented them to her.

Her mouth was wide open. “How..how did you do this?” Surely a blacksmith should have taken a longer time than this.

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled in amusement. “Magic.”

“Great uncle, stop jesting,” Hermione said as she ran her hands over the smooth metal. They were so similar it was eerie.

“I have my connections, Hermione. Now, hurry off before questions are raised about your long disappearance.”

“Thank you,” Hermione breathed as she hugged him tightly.

“No, thank you,” the older man smiled warmly and gave Hermione a tight squeeze before she ran off, worrying if she had been gone too long. She almost ran into someone on the doorstep of the tavern and when she straightened herself out she saw who it was. “Luna!”

“Hello, Hermione,” the girl smiled at her, having been standing there for who knows how long.

“Were you here this whole time? Why did you wander off in the first place?”

“I thought you might need some extra time to see your family.”

That silenced Hermione temporarily. Luna had purposefully gotten lost so as to give Hermione time to see her family. It was so sweet that she pulled Luna into a hug. “Thank you. It was much appreciated. But don't do that again. Lina likes to punish people and I don't want to see you get hurt for my own selfish needs.”

“They weren't selfish needs,” Luna said, confusing the brunette with her words.


End file.
